Ah, lovely Rose, she has a heart of gold, And much she mourns for the lorn Nightingale; And said: “East Wind, my herald messenger, Blow thou my message o’er the world’s domain. I wish thee to become my instrument, Through which release and help my bird shall ease. Ah! that the Bulbul with the open heart, No more might suffer in the deadly cage! Now show thy pity for that wretched soul, And gain him freedom from the iron bars. Betake thee to the monarch of the world; And speak to him in many a pleading word; And then occasion will be granted thee The Bulbul’s dreary tale to tell to him. And tell him how the wretch in prison pines, O’erwhelmed in suffering and misery; The king will have compassion on his lot, And show his favor to the destitute. He will be just and kindly to the bird And willingly release him from the cage.” The East Wind ran on hearing this command, And quickly to the monarch took his way. Upon the palace threshold laid him down, And in the dust his countenance he set. His wishes and his prayer expressed to him, In answer to the royal questioning. And many tidings told of this and that, Till to the end of all his news he came. Of many things he spoke in many ways And information gave of this and that. And then it happened that he came at last To tell the story of the Nightingale, And said, “O thou, the high illustrious one, A king endowed with each attractive gift, How is it possible that in thy day The cry of guiltless suffering should arise? That the poor prisoner in a cage should pine? And that the mighty should oppress the weak? That night and day the weak should utter woe, And without guilt endure the stroke of pain? That he should lie in fetters and in gyves-- He whose sweet voice is ever eloquent? And is it well that king so just as thou Should trample on so innocent a wretch? That he within the cage should cry for help, Through such a tedious period of distress? That he, by night and day, should make lament And no one listen to his dolorous song?” When this the lofty monarch of the world Had heard, he said: “And lives that beggar still? And is he still imprisoned in the cage, Caught in the meshes of his pain and woe? Now must his sad imprisonment have end. Fetch him and let me look upon his face.” Soon as the firman of the Shah went forth, The tidings of it reached the Nightingale. For one among the courtiers hurried forth, To bring the hapless one to happiness. And from the cage he was at once released And brought into the presence of the king. And soon as the celestial monarch’s eye Beheld the plight and misery of the wretch, And saw how vile and weak he did appear, And how he was reduced to skin and bone, And all forespent by separation’s pang,